Midgar Story
by JetNoir
Summary: Some years before the fall of the Shinra Electrical Company, several people are thrust together on the dark streets of Midgar, to stop a madman from destroying the only thing that they have left. Their home...
1. The Paulownia Court

**Note:** This story is partly inspired by The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu. I'm still reading it at the moment, but I wanted to make a start!

**the following takes place some years before the fall of Shinra**

**Midgar Story, by JetNoir**

1. THE PAULOWNIA COURT

_LILIA_

He was gone when she woke up.

The room was pitch black, but the noise was close to deafening as she thrust open the window. Midgar was known around the world as the city that never slept, so even though it was morning – as the Plate above Shinra HQ blocked the sunlight – the noise of traffic blocked all else.

She took a deep breath, and almost wept, as she smelt the smog and fumes, the pollution of a city consumed by darkness and misery. Lilia realised that she should consider herself lucky, having a well-paid job, a nice – albeit small – apartment in Sector 3, and a fiancé who loved her dearly. But still.

It just didn't seem right, worse, didn't seem enough. Again, she realised that these thoughts were stupid, or worse, futile, for in this dark world, all she could do was the best she could for herself, for her very survival.

Sighing heavily, she moved into the kitchen, and put a kettle on.

The first day of the rest of her life had begun.

_MIN_

"Ten-hut!" came the bellowing order from The Colonel, and with the rest of the Platoon, he came to attention, sliding his feet into position, sweating under the heavy blue armour. He had reported to the barracks three hours before dawn as stated. Thankfully, it was not the policy of Shinra to demand its soldiers were to bunk at HQ – only those currently on active duty, i.e. the graveyard shift – or Min knew that he would only see Lilia intermittently, and that he couldn't stand. Even as he marched out the room, three abreast, and collected his rifle and ammunition, his thoughts remained solely on the woman that he loved.

They were to get married soon, much to the general hilarity and affection shown by the platoon. They had finally decided to honeymoon at the Costa Del Sol, and they had both been granted leave.

"Lieutenant Min!"

He turned at that point, though continued marching as a courier ran up to him handing him an envelope.

"Good morning," said the courier, whom Min knew by sight, but couldn't place his name, "new orders sir!" The courier was breathless, so Min dropped out of the Platoon, and allowed the now gasping courier some time to compose himself.

"You're to report to Special Operations," said the Courier, "orders from up above. You must have impressed someone with that last mission!"

"Thankyou," replied Min simply. The courier nodded and left, as Min started to run to catch up with the Platoon, and to explain where he was disappearing too.

_FUREW_

Elsewhere in Midgar, a little girl lay crying.

She was crying softly, but she knew that it didn't matter, for no matter how loud she was, nothing would awaken her mother from her drunken stupor.

It was not that she was abused, or even neglected. She would get at least two square meals a day, but after about three in the afternoon, her widowed mother, would break out the liquor, and slowly but surely, she would be inebriated within hours.

Furew was lonely. That simple. She longed for contact with another human being, to talk, to laugh. Just to make friends.

Getting up off the bed, the little girl slipped downstairs, as the artificial lights of Midgar came on. She cut a determined little figure as she began to walk away from her house, and her mother, towards a small Church, to pray for a time when life would be better, not just for her, but for all Midgar, and to say Hello, to the beautiful Flower Girl, with the long brown hair.

_EDGE_

With a strangled gasp, the dishevelled figure leapt up from the ground, and glanced carefully around at his location. The darkened slums loomed above him, as he gazed through his long straggly hair. The disguise he wielded was a necessary deception, for although the face of the quasi-mythical mercenary was certainly not well known, Edge certainly didn't want it to become so. There were no more heroes in Midgar, just desperate people, driven to desperate measures, desperate to survive.

He had slept on the street this night, knowing that no thief would bother to rob a bum. Slinking into the shadows, Edge slid a hand to a concealed sheath and drew a dagger, which he concealed under the sleeve of his rags. He knew that he didn't have long till the target would awaken – for Edge had overslept, a stupid mistake he knew he would bitterly regret.

It did not take long for Edge to reach the house of the condemned, and it was a simple matter to scale the drainpipe unnoticed, break the simple lock of the window, and climb inside.

The corpulent man was snoring loudly, so Edge didn't waste any time, creeping straight to the bed, and gritting his teeth, slit the sleeping man's throat.

After waiting thirty seconds to make sure he was dead, and making sure he had none of the man's blood on him, Edge swiftly went back to the window and made his escape.

The body of course, would not be discovered for another six hours, but Edge hurried along, determined no one would place him at the scene of the crime. He kept running, swift and sure, until he reached the next sector over, and having shed his rags, which had hid his dark black outfit, he strolled, slightly red in the face to a bar, and ordered a drink and a meal.

When sure he was alone in the grimy tavern, he pulled out a small phone from his clothes and dialled the seven numbers from memory.

"_Yes?"_

"It's done," said Edge, sipping from his drink.

_SHINRA ADMINISTRATIVE DEPARTMENT IN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (THE TURKS)_

_Tseng, Vincent, Reno and Rude_

"Thankyou," replied Tseng, talking into his own phone, "the Gil will be delivered to you shortly."

"What happened?" asked Vincent, fingering his pistol nervously.

"The target's dead," stated Tseng coldly.

"Go-od," smirked Reno, "so we have one less AVALANCHE politician to worry about." Rude just belched.

"Shut your mouth," snarled Vincent, "what…do you want to broadcast our plans to the whole blasted street?" Tseng shook his head:

"Turks," he sighed, "lets get some breakfast."

_ERICA_

"Good morning!" said Erica as the little girl walked hesitantly into the church.

It took a few moments for Furew to recognise the girl, but as soon as she did, she smiled:

"Hello Eri. Do you know where Aeris is?" Erica shook her head.

"I dunno. Look…the flowers are wilting. Strange."

"Do you want me to water them?"

"No need Furew, I'll do it. You run along and play."

"OK."

Furew ran off, and Erica settled back on her knees, alone in the dark church, picking up a bucket filled with water, and slowly, gently poured it over the flowers.

The water was soon greedily sucked into the soil, and before her eyes, the blooms swelled, and stood upright, the beautiful, rare petals shining bright, against the darkness of Midgar.

_ANTHONY_

"Do you believe?"

The man staggered down the street, calling to anyone who could here. To the unpractised eye, he might look insane, but if he was, then it was only with pain. A dark wound bled openly from his stomach, as he called his sermon to all around.

"Do you believe?"

Something must have caught the man's eye as he swerved violently, and grabbed a man's collar, who was just walking past.

"Do you believe?" the injured man cried in the other man's face. The other man was at first shocked, but soon regained his composure.

"Get your dirty hands off me!" the man said, "Miserable psycho!" He reached up, and grabbed the injured man's wrists, trying to pull them away from his collar, but the injured man was strong, and they wouldn't budge.

"Do you believe?"

"Help!" the man called, "Someone get this psycho off me! Help."

"DO I HEAR A PRAYER FROM YOU!" came the bellowing reply.

A small crowd had gathered, but none had moved to help the captured man – indeed, this level of entertainment occurred only rarely.

However, it did not last long. Perhaps it was hunger, perhaps exhaustion, or perhaps it was the injured man succumbed to the wound, but he released his grip, and fell to the floor.

"Do you believe?" he whispered softly, and gurgled, his eyes closing.

The now released man, straightened, and with a snarl, viciously kicked the comatose body, which didn't respond.

Dead to the world, and no longer of interest, the crowd swiftly dispersed. They had had there fun, but even then, within hours the strange and curious incident had been completely forgotten.

_THE WITNESS_

I am The Witness. Believe what I have just uttered.

The world is dark and cold. Loneliness is all what most feel.

I stand here, some distance from Midgar. I look slowly into the cold night, and I see the cold moon, covered with cloud, a 'halo' watching over the land. The stars are bright and beautiful, shining and radiant, crying out a message of hope to us, it's children.

Lovers, murderers, a mercenary, little girls, flowers, and one who has passed beyond shadow. It's funny when you realise the sense of humour fate has.

Can misery ever end? Truly. Perhaps I will never know…but I think that these might just find out.

So it begins.

* * *

**Note:** Hope you enjoyed it. This seems like it will be very different to what I've written before, so it's certainly going to be different. I'm publishing this story simultaneously with ) and on the fantastic site: The Final Fantasy VII Citadel ). If you have any ideas on what I can do to improve the next chapter, if you want to see something in particular, or if you have a challenge for me; then please feel free to pose it! I hope to see you next chapter.

**Disclaimer: **I do not (sadly) own Square Enix, or Final Fantasy VII. All characters are copyright to Square Enix, apart from the ones I have created. Those, the scenario and story are copyright to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	2. The Broom Tree

**Note:** I'm unsure whether 'epiphany' can be used in a non-Christian sense. If not, please accept it as dramatic license!

**Midgar Story, by JetNoir**

2. THE BROOM TREE

If you were to see the sprawling metropolis of Midgar from a distance, then you might comment on its almost ethereal beauty. Starlight gleaming down from the heavens – if they still exist somewhere – draws the eye towards its gleaming spires and towers.

It is only when you get closer that you can see the disguised and discarded truth.

Pollution spews into the atmosphere, at an unprecedented rate; dirt and grime are awash in the streets, and all we can do is let it wash over us, corrupting and tainting the pure nature of our souls.

What must we do?

but

Do what we must.

And all I can do – at least for the moment, our fluidic present – is wait in silence.

Witness…

_LILIA_

"LATE!"

Lilia winced as her boss yelled at her, as she walked quickly through the door of Shinra's HQ.

"Sorry sir," she muttered, "the train was running late."

"Not acceptable," her boss said, shaking his head slightly, "be late again, and you're fired. You're a damn good worker…one of our best clerks. I'd hate to see you go…but get up earlier tomorrow, eh?"

Lilia nodded and scurried rapidly to her small cubicle, and switched the old computer in front of her on. Reaching into a drawer, she pulled out a large, battered file.

"What's with the yelling routine?" asked Peter – a friend and neighbouring worker – seemingly concerned, "Are you okay?" Lilia nodded.

"You were only five minutes out. Not much."

Lilia shrugged: "I'll be okay." Peter smiled and sat down.

The file in front of her immediately caught her eye, and she frowned. This was very odd – the file was marked TOP SECRET. There was no way it could have been placed her accidentally, unless it was the biggest screw-up in Shinra Inc. history. Was this some sort of test of allegiance? Report the mistake or read the file?

Mentally cursing her damned curious nature she picked up the file, flicked it open, glanced around to check no one was watching and began to read the first page.

_MIN_

He stood alone outside the door of the Squadron Commander's office, awaiting a response to the brief knocking he had performed a few moments previously.

He had failed to catch up to the Platoon – the courier had delayed him to no small extent – but Min was concerned regarding these orders. Surely it couldn't be right?

He was a foot soldier. A 'Grunt.' Sure, there was _The Mission_ as everyone referred to the unfortunate incident a month ago, but this was something worthy of…Sephiroth! Surely not.

"Enter."

The order was simple, and Min obeyed it, striding briskly into the office, closing the door behind him.

"Speak."

Min did.

_FUREW_

Disappointed, and more than a little sad, she walked slowly along the dusty ground. She had made it safely to the Church, but she knew – somewhere in the back of her mind, possibly buried in her subconscious – that she must be vigilante in her travels; but safety is not the highest priority on a little girl's mind.

It was cold along the road, and Furew shivered. Not just cold, however.

Blocking the road was a house. Furew found this curious, as the road-blocking house was not there when she first came along.

It was extremely large, terracotta bricks, and a red roof. Yet, as she gazed, the house subtly changed before her eyes. Missies popped out of the roof, ready to fire. A mouth, and face yawned lazily into existence.

Furew screamed.

_EDGE_

"Freeze! Hands in the air!"

As soon as he heard the immortal words, Edge inwardly winced. He slowly turned around to see four security officers slowly approaching him, automatic weapons raised and pointed menacingly at him. Soldiers. At least not _from_ SOLDIER, and Edge was grateful for whatever small miracles ever passed his way.

"Might I enquire as too the nature of the weapons pointed in front of me?" Edge asked.

"Shut it!" yelled one of the soldiers, gesturing menacingly with his rifle.

Edge winced again. Amateurs. Delusions of grandeur. This would get very messy if it wasn't defused soon. Dropping to the floor, Edge rolled sideways, drawing a pistol, raised it and fired.

The empty click reverberated in the almost-empty street, and Edge winced again as he realised that the clip was empty.

What was this? Multiple screw-ups? How did he get so careless?

Sliding the empty clip out, letting it fall to the floor, Edge leaped forward violently, as ravenous gunfire emitted from the smoking and flashing barrels behind him, and ran towards cover, in this case, the corner of the street. He slammed in a fresh clip, threw his arm around the corner, and fired blindly. Hearing two thuds, Edge knew that some of the bullets had hit. A dull clunk showed that the clip was empty again, so tucking the gun into his coat; he drew a concealed short sword, and rolled into the approaching soldiers. Hacking left, then right, the sword drew blood, and the men of Shinra simply died – painfully, but quickly.

Tired, he fled at the sound of approaching boots. He was in no shape to fight more men. No shape to kill anyone else. What was the matter? What had gone wrong?

_SHINRA ADMINISTRATIVE DEPARTMENT IN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (THE TURKS)_

_Tseng, Vincent, Reno and Rude_

An epiphany.

The simple word rung clear in Vincent Valentine's brain, as he was transported by the simple power the imagination holds over each of us.

It was night, and he was sitting, sipping liquid from a china cup, underneath a tree. A broom tree. Starlight and moonlight flooded down onto him, like a quasi-invisible sea.

Words were written onto the bark, in a red that seemed thicker than blood.

'HOME'

But the caressing moonlight was not to stay for long. Dark clouds covered the sky with a rapidity that Vincent would have thought to have been impossible. A thin and violent streak of golden lightning shot down from the heavens, striking the tree with perfect accuracy, setting it ablaze.

Vincent leapt forward, the cup falling out of his hand, smashing into a million pieces as it fell onto hard ground that had once been soft grass only a moment ago. He lay – sprawled out as flames licked the air behind him.

The message was being wiped out. Slowly and systematically destroyed.

"Pass the goddamned sugar!" yelled Rude – living up to his namesake – causing Vincent to snap out of his vision, Tseng to hiss viciously to Rude to not draw attention, and for every other inhabitant of the café to stare at The Turks…although Rude didn't care. It was the third time he'd asked after all.

"What is it?" asked Tseng.

"Nothing," replied Vincent.

But deep in his heart, Vincent Valentine knew that this was not so.

_ERICA_

Her errands at the church complete for the day Erica walked swiftly away, not wanting another confrontation with…her. Aeris was an extremely good friend, but her somewhat meddling nature – often helpful in times of trial – was not needed. Not today. Not now. 

Leaving Sector 5, and heading to Sector 6, she slid down a narrow path – a shortcut to her destination.

Erica didn't hear the terrified scream Furew made – nor did she see her. If only she had bothered to walk down the normal route then what will follow might have been completely different.

Does anyone really care?

The bright sordid lights of the Honeybee Inn – a surreal mix of massage parlour and…den of darker vices – called out to her, yet it would have been impossible to simply walk through the front door. Using her deceptively strong strength, she leapt upwards at the side of the building, landing squarely on the roof, a floor above the ground. No one had seen her, no one _could_ see her…simply because no one gave a damn.

These were petty people, interested only in their own petty lives. It made Eri feel sick.

Opening the skylight, she dropped down into a light and airy room.

"Po-" began a scantily clad bee, before gazing at Eri and freezing, her every muscle locking rigidly in place, and falling over backwards, luckily (for her) onto a soft bed.

"Sorry," whispered Erica. Throughout the entire exchange she had not moved from the position she had come in from. There was no one here. Thankfully. Avoiding touching the young girl, Eri set about searching frantically in the room. In a dusty corner, she saw it, a book – dropped by her employer – although _his_ reason for being here wasn't as sordid as some might make out. The Honeybee Inn also was incredibly discreet – enabling clandestine meetings between parties who did not want to be discovered together.

She picked up the book, tracing a delicate finger around the gold embossed lettering of the bound cover…letters that read _PRAYER_.

And then she was gone. 

_ANTHONY_

Six feet under the desolate earth lay rotting flesh. Multiple bodies piled up with no respect, only a desire to be rid of the needless dead, what Shinra Inc believed was an unnecessary drain on valuable resources. 

And so he was dead.

And that was all there was to that. 

_THE WITNESS_

I stand here, beneath the Broom Tree, sheltering from the vicious storm that rages around me. Is this who I have been given to work with? It had begun, and already I am impatient. An imperfect being, sent to help imperfect beings. I walk out from under the tree, the second it bursts into flame. The fire does not touch me, but I feel it, and relish its heat, but it is soon put out by the torrential rainfall.

I continue to walk – forwards and onwards to Midgar, with a singular though burning in my skull.

Perhaps I should force contact?

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I do not (sadly) own Square Enix, or Final Fantasy VII. All characters are copyright to Square Enix, apart from the ones I have created. Those, the scenario and story are copyright to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou! 

**JetNoir**


	3. Evening Faces

**Midgar Story, by JetNoir**

3. EVENING FACES

_Ladies and Gentlemen…please stand for THE PRESIDENT_

Snorting and smirking, President Shinra slowly rolled onto his feet and gazed wordlessly, carelessly at the people gathered below him. His corpulent form shivered slightly, imperceptibly, as he looked with well-hidden contempt at those around him.

He was at a dinner, of some of Midgar's wealthiest citizens – wealthy, and living _on_ the Plate. He didn't want to be here, but then he had very little choice.

Keeping up appearances.

He gestured the audience to sit from their carefully planned standing ovation. It was meant to be perfect. Perfect, for a perfect President. In reality it was just artificial…cold and clinical.

Sighing slightly, he focused his eyes on the paper in front of him, and began to read from it.

--

The speech lasted just five minutes, and again, the same clinical '_perfect'_ applause.

This had to end. It had to change.

The President realised something wasn't right.

_LILIA_

It was cold in the metallic city, and Lilia shivered violently as she slowly walked home.

The foul smell of refuse permeated her nose, the endless drizzle draining down her face, dirty water recycled over and over. There was nothing fresh here, nothing new. Only the memory of a time where it wasn't so bad.

The file secured in her bag was a puzzle as well. She was terrified that SOLDIER would arrest her at any moment, for theft of a classified document. She had to get out. She had to leave Midgar!

Min.

He would know what to do. Surely he had been in dangerous situations.

Thirty days.

If this file was right, not a hoax, then that was all that was left before the end of it all.

She looked over her shoulder frantically, hearing quiet footsteps, but it was just an errant cat.

What Lilia didn't see was a tall figure, covered in a large brown cloak that draped from head to foot, watching silently from the rooftops overhead.

_MIN_

Min burped.

Not what you'd do in polite company, but when out with the 'boys', a belch between friends is nothing serious. The beer was good, but the bar was too hot, damnably hot in fact.

"You've done good work," said the Commander, in his office, earlier that day, "and Shinra are proud of you. But what we need you to do Min…it's dangerous."

"I'm ready," said Min, proudly holding his head high.

"Good," said the Commander, "and that is why we must dispatch you. In three days, you are being posted to Costa Del Sol, to head a battalion to stop these AVALANCHE Insurgents. The mission is expected to last a mere week, so you shouldn't be separated from your ladylove for too long."

Min smiled grimly: "Aye, sir."

"Right!" barked the Commander, "Details in the folder before you. Report here in three days, until that time, you're on leave. Dismissed!"

"Yes sir, thankyou sir," Min muttered.

The Commander looked up briefly: "I said dismissed."

_FUREW and EDGE_

Furew screamed loudly, in fright of the missile-bearing house that had appeared in front of her. She wanted to run, knew that she should…but couldn't. She was utterly stuck.

"Hold on!" a strange man yelled, pulling what looked like a gun, but Furew didn't care. Maybe he'd safe her from the house.

The gun exploded in the man's hand, and within moments, the house had vanished into a surge of red mist. Then the man was coming towards her.

"Hello," he said, "what's your name?" His voice was friendly, so, still a little scared, Furew replied.

"Furew?" said the man, "Well, that's unusual. Where do you come from…and where are you going?"

"Home," said Furew, "and mister? What's your name?"

The man smiled, something he hadn't done in a long time: "Edge."

The girl frowned slightly, curious.

"Do you want me to take you home Furew?" asked Edge, not knowing why he was doing it…he was wanted for murder, for crying out loud!

The little girl nodded, and Edge nodded in return: "All right, come along."

_SHINRA ADMINISTRATIVE DEPARTMENT IN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (THE TURKS)_

_Tseng, Vincent, Reno and Rude_

The Turks were still at the same bar, chatting and drinking. It wasn't as if they had anything else to do, and Scarlet had been leaving them alone as of late…which was fine with The Turks.

Downing his tenth (or was it eleventh?) beer, Vincent blurted out his vision. He didn't know why he did…only a feeling he _must_.

"Vision!" snorted Rude, "You feeling okay Valentine. Been drinking a little to much, yeah?" Vincent's face resembled wounded calm.

"I'm fine," he snapped, "but listen damnit, this is important! There's a tree. A Broom Tree…and we have to find it! It's as simple as that!"

Tseng raised a slight eyebrow, but just sighed.

"Alright Vincent," he said quietly and wearily, "get some sleep tonight, and if you think it's still important in the morning, we'll have a look."

"Yep," said Reno, "and it's not as if we've got anything else to do!"

_ERICA_

"Sorry I'm late!" said Erica, bursting into her Client's room, "I got what you wanted."

"Let me see it!" snapped Erica's Client, in a distinctly female voice, "Give it to me!" It was snatched out of Erica's grasp, the book with _PRAYER _embossed on the cover.

"Another day in Paradise," muttered Erica as wads of Gil was unceremoniously thrust into her hand, and she was shoved out the door.

"Charming," sighed Erica, quickly hiding (which was not an easy task) the large quantities of Gil in her hands. Many here would kill for even a fraction of what she had…and all for one brief amnesia of morals.

All for a compromise.

_ERICA'S CLIENT_

The Client stayed utterly still after Erica had left the room, her gloved hands gently caressing the cover of the book.

"Oh, my love," she murmured, "what have they done to you? What have these monsters done to you?"

She started to pace the room, almost frantic, her hood sliding slightly, revealing a long lock of copper hair.

"I will have my revenge. No…you can have you revenge? Could I? Dare I?"

She moved to the window and gazed out onto Midgar.

"That silly little office clerk will have found that file I stole, but should she screw up?"

The woman's gaze hardened: "No, my love. I will have you back. I will save you from these demons. I will pray."

Then softly, more quietly:

"Do I hear a prayer from you?"

_THE WITNESS_

Anthony.

A dead man holds the key to us all. His rotting corpse, decomposing beneath my feet. I'm powerless. I cannot do _anything_; indeed, I am as trapped as he is. Was.

What should we do? Pray?

Our gods have deserted us, or perhaps we have deserted them. We built new gods, in machines, and rulers with their lust for power.

I forced my way into the city, breaking the barriers of mako and metal. I walked through the filth and degradation, trying not to despair for the people living in such abject poverty, stuck in a never-ending cycle, descending until they lose all their money…and so it continues.

I am powerless to stop this, and never in my long life have I felt so utterly wretched.

I must find them, there is nothing else, but, if.

If only.

One thing you will find, if you stay long enough – indeed, manage to survive – in Midgar.

The faces we wear in the Evenings, are _very_ different to the ones at any other time of day…

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I do not (sadly) own Square Enix, or Final Fantasy VII. All characters are copyright to Square Enix, apart from the ones I have created. Those, the scenario and story are copyright to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	4. The Festival Of The Cherry Blossoms

**Note: **I've noticed that there is a slight Pulp Fiction-style chronology to this story, in that although the stories are interconnected, and within the confines of their own sections run (apart for flashbacks) in chronological order, the individual sections don't seem to run in the order they are presented. Though for the time being it seems to be making sense. I'd also like to thank doctor katy for beta-reading this chapter.

**Midgar Story, by JetNoir**

4. THE FESTIVAL OF THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS

_THE FLOWER GIRL_

Welcome to Sector Six.

The Wall Market was completely unrecognisable. The refuse littering the streets had vanished, and paper petals fell through the air, creating a carpet for people to walk on.

The festival was here.

Once a year, the inhabitants of the sector threw caution to the wind in recognition - and with more than a little longing for their past. The festival might not have been forbidden, but Shinra certainly frowned upon it. So the inhabitants were careful.

Of course, the festival drew people from the other sectors, so the traders were grateful - they often made more money in these few days, than they did for months afterwards.

Don Corneo was out and on the prowl, leering, and attracting some threatening looks in return. But he didn't care - it was as if the whole world was his playground.

As head of Urban Development, Reeve was present as well, overseeing the proceedings. He rather enjoyed the festival - not that he would tell President Shinra that.

There was an air of excitement, as little children ran through the streets playing and shouting, their mothers picking up new clothes from the tailors, and fathers surreptitiously sneaking out of the Honeybee Inn.

The festival was here.

There was one more figure, her pink dress swirling, her basket filled with the only real flowers in Shinra. She was making a lot of money, and having to take repeated trips to the church; making sure she wasn't followed.

She wanted to spread some beauty in this ugly place. Surely that wasn't a bad thing?

_LILIA_

**Department of Urban Development**

**The Following File is Classified**

**Unauthorised Viewing is Punishable by Imprisonment and / or a Severe Fine**

**Do Not Accept From Courier If Seal Is Broken**

Urgent Memo:

There is a gross instability in the Mako Reactors. In thirty days, the levels will have reached critical limits. Cause is mostly unknown. We do not know how to stop this.

I have been in contact with Scarlet; and Heidegger. Their intelligence states to some sort of preacher, name of Anthony. Is he responsible? It seems he must be found within the thirty-day limit - or Midgar will be destroyed.

The Festival begins tomorrow in Sector Six. Recommend the Turks and SOLDIER patrol. They might have a chance to find him.

**Reeve.**

_MIN_

"Are you out of your goddamned mind?" Min yelled, shocked and horrified. He shook his head, still not quite comprehending.

"Don't be angry," said Lilia, desperately, "please, oh god please don't be angry!"

"Angry? I'm furious. Not with you…but with your choices! Hell's teeth Lilia, don't you realise how risky that is? If they found out? What if it's a plant?"

"Min, the Mako. Could it explode?"

"Yes. No. How should I know? It could? But what about this Anthony character? How could he be linked? Don't you think it's a little convenient? It seems a little out, no?"

"They're Shinra, Min. They know everything!"

"See," Min cried, "that's my point!"

"So? What do we do?"

"I've been re-assigned. Temporarily."

"What?"

"Yeah, Lil. That's why I'm late getting in. Drink with the boys. I checked out the festival too. Bought you some flowers."

Despite herself, she smiled: "Thank you Min. But what assignment?"

Min stood up straighter, and adopted his best soldier voice: "Costa Del Sol. Take a week, I'll leave in three days. Highly classified."

"Yes sir."

"No need for sarcasm."

"What should we do?" asked Lilia.

"Let me do the assignment. Stick out the next nine days. That'll give us twenty-one to work things out. If needs must, we'll evacuate."

"And what about the millions of people living in Midgar? Huh, Min? What about them? Do you want to leave them to die?"

"Of course not. Look, I have the next three days off. We can spend some time together. And I might be a grunt, but I do have some contacts. I'll see what I can find."

"Yeah. That'll have to do"

"For now it will. Now tomorrow; do you want to go to the festival?"

_FUREW and EDGE_

The murderer and the little girl. Rather ironic. Slightly poetic. Utterly bizarre.

"So," said Edge, seemingly desperate to break the silence, "you lived in Midgar long?"

"All my life."

"And how long's that?"

"A long time."

"Am I going to get a straight answer out of you?"

"Why do you ask? I'm not giving you any crooked ones."

"Yes. Not sure I believe you. So, how far is it to your home?"

"Why? Don't you like me?"

"Like you? I don't know you Furew. You seem a very nice little girl, but I can't form an opinion on someone I've just met."

"It's not far."

"Pardon?"

"To my house. And if you don't want to talk, that's okay."

Edge sighed: "Damned if I do, and damned if I don't," he muttered.

--

A quarter of an hour later.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" asked Edge.

"Yes. Mummy is asleep. She drinks too much."

"Your mother's an alcoholic?"

"Yes. I just live with it."

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?"

"Yes. Goodbye."

After making sure she had locked the door, Edge shrugged and turned away, into the metallic bowels of Midgar.

_SHINRA ADMINISTRATIVE DEPARTMENT IN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (THE TURKS)_  
_Tseng and Vincent, (with Reno, Rude)_

"Enjoying yourself Vincent?" Tseng's voice was quiet and calm, in the hustle-bustle of the Festival.

"Not really," replied Vincent, "but then we're not here to enjoy ourselves, are we?"

"No," said Tseng, "we're not."

"Where are Reno and Rude?"

"The other side of the market. They're still searching."

"But why a Preacher? Who the hell is this Anthony?"

"Blowed if I know. But these orders come directly from the President."

"Weird. There's something just not quite right about this. Look, Tseng. Do you feel we're being left out of the loop?"

"What, more than usual?"

"More than usual."

"Something's not right," said Tseng, "but it's not our place to question orders."

"Is it ever?" said Vincent

_ERICA_

Nothing like a little theft to work up an appetite.

Erica wandered around Wall Market, eating the day's special (and occasionally paper petals, that were still falling thick and fast). Taking in the scents, sights and sounds of the Festival.

It was Erica's favourite time of the year. She had never left Midgar in her life. This was her home, and to leave it would be intolerable - it was after all hers.

But to go somewhere different. That was Erica's dream.

At that time she was determined to make her dream come true.

_SAKURA (ERICA'S CLIENT)_

"Wall Street," Sakura snarled, "a place of Vice and Lust and Pain. Also of useful items."

"Eh?" the shop-keeper was confused.

"Never mind," she snapped, shifting uncomfortably.

"Now," the shop-keeper said, "the amulet of course is fine. However, the blood," he pointed to a glass vial, filled with a sticky red liquid, "well, it's not exactly legal, see. So, if you get caught with it, you can't let it be traced back to me."

"Fair enough," said Sakura, her face suddenly lightening. She reached over the counter, and with a savage smile, snapped the shop-keepers neck with a sickening crunch.

"See," she said, "they can't trace it back to you now."

_THE WITNESS_

The least I could do was see Lilia home, after I managed to slip her the file. The contact is beginning - but I must be cautious. It can't be too fast. No, too fast would not be good at all.

Is Anthony responsible? But he is dead, and surely the dead have no hold over the living. Is the Mako somehow reacting to him? What happened to him? I have no answers.

I was walking in Sector Six earlier, the paper petals falling on my head. It is amazing how such ugliness can be hidden so well.

It is as I am passing the tailors that I see her. I see Sakura. I immediately duck, and she does not spot me. What is she doing here? Why is she involved?

I have to hide. I'm not strong enough yet.

But face her I shall. She and I will fight. I will have my justice.

And only one of us will survive…

**Disclaimer: **All the characters are copyright to Square Enix; and the story to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	5. The Gatehouse

**Note: **Well, well, well. It has been now over one year since I last wrote a chapter of this story, and for that I can do nothing but apologise. I have always been a procrastinator when it comes to my fanfic's, but I can't quite believe I've taken so long. I promise to write chapter six sooner. Finally, regarding the friend that Tifa refers to: he'll be making an appearance in two chapters time.

**MIDGAR STORY**

**written by JetNoir**

5. THE GATEHOUSE

28 days remaining until the destruction of Midgar

_ANTHONY DEAD (as so witnessed)_

Anthony was dead to begin with (although previously his state of existence was the opposite to his now decaying state), and already things were wrong in the metallic city.

I stand above the ground where he is buried, locked within the earth and a thousand crying souls.

There is an oddness here. A coldness. It is as if the lifestream is failing.

Suddenly I cry out in pain, and fall to the ground. What is happening to me? What is this? Pain? Mine, or that of the dead's?

My head is screaming, but then I realise it is me. I open my eyes, to find myself lying sideways along the ground.

I get up quickly, and look around. There is no-one here. Good. I am grateful for that tender mercy.

So what now? Flee. Retreat. Regroup.

Mind you, I don't have a group yet.

So what was it that I felt? Power. A raw, terrifying power. What was it?

…Unless.

No. That's too ridiculous.

It cannot be…_yet it must be._

_--_

_IN SOLITUDE - ON THE PLATE: PRESIDENT SHINRA_

He liked it up here in the evenings, with a cool breeze blowing around him, watching the sun go down. To stand right on the top of the plate was to stand in the only non-polluted area of Midgar: it was as if it were the eye of a hurricane consisting not of wind, but of pollution. Not that he minded the waste products hurtling into the atmosphere - for he had built his fortune upon it - but it was also nice to get away from time to time. And now, the sun a burnt orange colour, slowly disappearing over the horizon, he sighed and smiled. His life was a good one. He was the President after all.

His smile slipped away as soon as he remembered the report at the top of his in-tray. _That_ file. The one predicting the very destruction of his precious city. Damn Reeve! Not that it was his fault for finding the problem, but there must be a scapegoat, and for now, the pen-pusher was _it._

Could the Mako explode? Certainly. And there were reservoirs deep enough to leave a horrifying crater where he was standing right now. His personal evacuation plan was ready, and he would flee in a heartbeat: but he fervently hoped it wouldn't come to that. He would hate to be chased away. What sort of example would that set to his son?

--

_LILIA_

If you were to take to Midgar from the skies, and gaze on the people below, you would see many things. Flying as a god, you could witness horrors, wonders, love, death, cruelty, kindness, faith…

Right now, in this second of time, there is an argument. One that is heartfelt, by two people who love each other desperately and passionately. But right now, they are in a state of total disagreement.

"We have to tell people," cried Lilia, "right now, as many as we can find."

"That's exactly the sort of response I could expect from you," Min yelled, "and it is naïve in the extreme! You can't just tell these people! They wouldn't believe you. Then within twenty minutes you would be captured. An hour: imprisoned. A day? Probably executed for dissent. Lilia, I can't let you do this. It's too dangerous, and there would be no good because of it. Would your incarceration help anyone? You don't even know that report is genuine."

"I understand politics as well as you do. And if this report is a hoax, it's a damn good one. Why would someone go to such trouble."

"All I'm saying is be more careful. Lil…there something that isn't right here."

"You think?"

"Yes, I do! And you should as well. Hell, Lilia, we're out of our depth."

"So what do you suggest?"

"We wait. See what happens."

"According to this report, we don't have any time!"

Min stopped, and now, words failed him. He didn't know what to do, and he told Lilia so, then added: "Look, I have to report to work. I'll see you tonight. Don't do anything until then."

He walked out the door, disturbed.

Lilia took the report and sat down, then read it yet again.

Once finished, she said: "Well…there are those freedom fighters."

--

_MIN_

The sun has now set, as we visit the barracks.

Min was reading. Admittedly something he rarely did, but this was different. It was an intelligence report:

**Department of Public Maintenance (Special Operations, SOLDIER Division)**

**The Following File is Classified**

**Unauthorised Viewing is Punishable by Imprisonment and / or a Severe Fine**

**Do Not Accept From Courier If Seal Is Broken**

**Eyes Only: Min (Commander of Platoon 978)**

Intelligence on 'AVALANCHE Insurgents' within Costa Del Sol:

As a member of SOLDIER (Second Class), you will, of course, be aware of the ecological terrorist group entitled AVALANCHE. The Shinra Electric Company and it's conglomerates; being the dominant ruling force of our planet, have instituted a no tolerance police on these dangerous subversives. The terrifying aspects of their propaganda is that they have no basis in fact. This fantasy they have created threatens to undermine all the good Shinra is doing for our planet, and the people who live under our benevolent protection.

The AVALANCHE cell is comprised of five members who live on Main Street in Costa Del Sol. The cell comprises of the following members:

(The following information has been excluded from this report due to inexplicable inaccuracies. See enclosed sheet "5a" for the revised intelligence.)

Your orders are simple. Delete this cell. Show no mercy.

The very best of luck to you and your platoon.

--

_An AVALANCHE of Catastrophic Proportions: TIFA LOCKHEART and BARRET WALLACE_

"These damn re-ports don't mean one jot to me, ya know!" Barret Wallace, leader of AVALANCHE was deeply frustrated, "this could be Shinra rats for all we know!"

"Barret," said Tifa Lockheart, proprietor and barmaid of 7th Heaven; the bar they were standing in the basement of, "think sensibly. We could have a holocaust on our hands. Literal fire, destroying everything, people and buildings."

"To destroy Midgar…"

"But not the people, Barret. Not the people."

"What I'm saying, girl, is that we don't know anything for sure. This woman works for Shinra!"

"Exactly. We should at least agree to meet her." Tifa sighed bitterly, and placed her hands on her hips. "You know," she said, "I had a friend once. A good friend from my childhood. He promised to rescue me if I ever needed it. Although I don't know about rescuing, I wonder where he is right now. It was so long ago."

"This ain't no time for goddam nostalgia!" Barret said, "And alright, set up this meet with the Shinra lady. But you better not be wrong, you hear! Anyways, where's Jessie?"

"Out, getting some new parts for a device. Explosive."

"Alright…so what's our next target…"

--

_FUREW and THE FLOWER GIRL_

The next morning, with the sun having barely risen. Twenty seven days remaining.

The church seemed extra peaceful today, with sunbeams penetrating the plate from the world above, and flooding the church with light. Despite the light, it was cool inside, and still. Kneeling in front of the flowers, was Furew, who was gently watering them, humming softly. She turned when the large front doors opened.

"Aeris!" she cried happily, getting up clumsily, and running towards the pink-dressed figure, throwing her arms around the tops of Aeris' legs.

"Hello, Furew," said the Flower Girl, placing her free arm around the little girl. Her other arm was immobilised by a basket filled with new flowers, bulbs, and seeds.

"Welcome back, Aeris. I missed you."

Aeris smiled, her face lighting up: "I missed you too, Furew. I thought about you every day. I just had to get away after the festival. Find some new blooms. New lives for our church."

"Then let's plant them."

Aeris smiled again, as she passed the little girl the heavy basket. Furew grunted, and started to drag it to the other flowers.

Aeris was glad to be back. Not because of the city, but of the people here. Elmyra especially, but Furew and a few others. She had missed them during her brief sojourn. But as she turned back to the door to close it, her smile fell. Her eyes darkened. The city had felt wrong to her, much more wrong then it usually was. It was scaring her badly. She didn't want to show Furew her fear…but she knew something was coming soon.

She closed the door, and turning back to the little girl, she tried to replace her smile, but Furew noticed that it didn't reach Aeris' eyes.

--

_EDGE_

Edge was perturbed.

He was on the rooftops of Sector 5, trying to ignore the metallic-smelling drizzle that oozed down the back of his neck. Acid rain. Mild enough not to penetrate human skin, but still more that damaging to any fauna in…ah. Of course there is no fauna until the metal ends.

But Edge just didn't care. Self-preservation was a largely deciding factor (if not the majority vote) in any decision regarding himself. He hated it here. He felt cold and unclean all the time…but in Midgar he had the greatest opportunity for profit. That was the second deciding factor.

The third is information. One thing Edge always made sure of was that he was constantly informed of every little thing to pass through the gatehouses. He had a large network of informers (who obviously didn't know who they were working for), who made sure that Edge knew more than most. Not everything…but quite a lot.

For instance, he had heard rumours that the Turks had become quite nervous about something. New orders, or some-such. They had stopped harassing a pretty young flower girl, the one who looked after the church. It was that serious.

For the Turks to stop recruiting…something was going on. Edge had heard the metal city of Midgar was becoming more dangerous than usual. Whispers of something bubbling under the streets.

So Edge considered visiting the Gatehouse, and leaving. He could get paid anywhere. Not as well as in Midgar, but money couldn't be spent if you were dead.

But as he considered fleeing…he wondered: what about that little girl?

--

_SHINRA ADMINISTRATIVE DEPARTMENT IN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (THE TURKS)_  
_Tseng, Vincent, Reno and Rude_

"The wretched things you come up with," said Tseng softly, "search for a tree. A tree! As if there are any of those in Midgar."

"Just some flowers in that church," said Reno.

"It feels right," said Vincent, "don't ask me how I know, but I do."

Rude looked up from the glossy magazine he was glancing at, and said, to the surprise of the others: "Why are we looking in Midgar. There are some trees, right outside the gatehouses."

Tseng looked at Rude, and said: "That's actually a good idea." He looked at his fellow Turks and nodded. They began to move, gently out of the area, Rude last, dropping his magazine on the ground, reverting to his usual, uncommunicative self.

As they walked to the gatehouses, a fly landed on the magazine. If it had the ability to read, it would have seen a special offer: half price discount at the Honeybee Inn - limited time only.

--

_ERICA_

Streaks of lightning flashed violently in the distance. Erica breathed deeply, somewhat afraid - although there was no reason to be. Yet it was another reason not to walk forward into a new world. Electricity in the far distance, in the sky…wild, crackling and untamed. Not like Shinra's monstrous creation. The bloated city she cowered and whimpered in.

No.

That was to harsh. She always had set her sights to high. Now she knew she might never leave this place. If only she could take those few steps.

Erica stood at one of the gateways, right on the outskirts of Midgar, her only home. The gateway, itself was oddly deserted…there really should have been a few guards here.

Obviously she was glad there were none. So she stayed here, and watched the storm, trapped between thunder and metal. Her personal rock-and-a-hard-place.

Yet, due to it's distance, she never noticed the storm was slowly inching towards her, even from the horizon. Ever closer to her home.

--

_SAKURA_

It was dark in the room, pitch black. A cheap room, rented in a cheap part of the slums. On the bedside table, their was a vial of blood; one that had been procured with violence. Next to it was a book, with _'PRAYER' _embossed on the cover.

Sakura was sitting on the edge of her bed, her long copper hair falling freely, no longer covered up. She was crying, and had been for some time. She was grieving.

But in her grief, came an opportunity. One for cleansing, washing away the filth on these cold, lonely streets. An opportunity she would take full advantage of.

The items she was assembling had a singular purpose, that of dark, evil sorcery. She would need to move onto the plate soon, and she would have to find a materia to channel this raw power through.

All this effort for something terrible. Something horrifying. Something that was supposed to be impossible.

The resurrection of the dead.

--

_THE WITNESS_

There is a power growing slowly in Midgar. Raw, terrifying power. It is the cause of the Mako instability, and if this power does not stop soon. Well, for want of a better word: boom. The electricity and the Mako that this city relies on will be it's undoing.

I do not know what is causing it, but I can make a very educated guess. Sakura. The woman, and her unholy lover were dangerous in her day. She must be more so, with his demise. I have had my clashes with the both of them, within the past. Yet she remains a mystery, an enigma. I know very little about her. Just that she is astonishing dangerous.

In order to save Midgar, to stop it's destruction, one thing must happen. This aggravating power must be stopped. If not, an exodus must begin; and all the inhabitants of this metallic city must leave. If not, they will die.

The storm is coming.

Twenty seven days remaining.

**Disclaimer: **All the characters from Final Fantasy VII are copyright to Square Enix; and the story, plus original characters to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page (this includes links)without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


	6. The Wind In The Pines

**Note: **Well, it's only been a year since I wrote the last chapter…So at this rate, I'll be in my thirties before it's ever finished. One good thing, I have all the chapters nicely mapped out, so all I can hope is to get some momentum going. As well as actual typing. Anyway, I digress: this chapter contains moderate violence; no deliberate political views (Durzi is an old Persian word, and seemed to fit into the tapestry of Midgar nicely); and with many thanks to BeatricePortinari - for always being there.

**MIDGAR STORY**

**written by JetNoir**

6. THE WIND IN THE PINES

25 days remaining until the destruction of Midgar

Midgar knows that it is dying.

Quite how a city had reached a state of such painful sentience is unclear, but to the casual observer all of the signs are there. Every so often, the ground shakes violently. There are strange apparitions. Midgar both cries, and whispers.

The people react by claiming it is superstition's forces that are causing it, but Midgar knows better. With every noxious belch, the city draws closer to its own demise. The raw power it is built on is killing it. Constantly overloading.

Midgar is dying quickly. It is dying _painfully_.

We are twenty-five days from critical mass.

Twenty-five days from the destruction of an entire people.

Twenty-five days from the most horrific act of terrorism the world had ever seen.

Twenty-five days from genocide.

--

_A Crossroads for THE MAYOR and THE PRESIDENT_

In the vast majority of the cities and towns dotted throughout the world, the person in charge of those communities would be the elected Mayor, or town Boss. Not so in Midgar. Since the messy birth of the metal city, only one person had ruled with an iron fist. The Shinra Dynasty of the Shinra Electrical Company had always reigned supreme; it's President in charge of the largest military and economic society in the world. He was the de facto leader of the world - and even though the world would always loathe him; they must always be willing to accept him.

So why was there a Mayor in Midgar? Quite simple he was a holdover from the days when the sectors were separate villages. The people liked having an elected spokesperson, and the Presidents of Shinra blithely allowed this practise continue. It was not as if these simple men could do anything.

The current Mayor of Midgar is Domino, and on the sixty-second floor of The Shinra Building, a conference is taking place. A somewhat one-sided conference at that.

"I realise I am nothing more than a puppet Mayor," said Domino, "and that I have no power or say in affairs. Your generous payments see to that. But I am still Mayor in name, and I implore you. You must do something about this problem."

"You have taken me away from dealing with these problems," said the President, scorn residing in his voice, "to _complain_ about said problems? What kind of imbecile are you?"

"A desperate one! President Shinra…you informed my office of this dire situation a few hours ago. Until I called for you, your company has made no effort to interface with this office. Surely we can at least help. If nothing but with an evacuation."

Shinra's eyes flared: "No, _Mayor_, no. I will not allow the inhabitants to abandon my city. We will solve this problem, and we will prevail. We are merely dealing with a few…setbacks."

"Setbacks? Setbacks!" Domino's voice grew shrill, "Shinra is the only superpower on the planet, and our capital city is about to blow up! This is no mere setback, Mister President. It is an utter disaster."

The President shifted his corpulent form, and re-arranged his bright red suit. He yawned suddenly, rudely indicating his boredom. Domino noticed this, and cringed. He realised his time with the President was over; and of course nothing was done. It had been a simple waste of time. As always.

Cowed and submissive, Domino lowered his head: "Thankyou for your time, Mister President."

The President belched, and then said: "Very well. I will make sure your…request is seen to. As I was doing _before _this goddamn meeting."

He walked out the door, both sides bumping into the narrow frame. The Mayor was alone again, in his small room, on the sixty-second floor. And despite being alone he spoke up again, quietly, but with feeling.

"I cannot do anything. I truly am a puppet. I am worthless here. Damn you, sir! You lead us all to ruin. All to desolation, and for what? Gil? Power? You would forsake your own people for nothing. They truly mean nothing to you. They are but as ants…So why must I stay? Why can I not go home? I would like to see the sea again. Feel the foam beneath my feet, the waves crashing against the sand. To feel at peace."

His mind made up, his soul bolstered, he moved towards the door, and tried the release.

Nothing happened. It was locked from the outside. Either by the President or one of his aides, Mayor Domino was trapped here, in this small room.

Unheard and alone. Always alone.

_--_

_LILIA_

Lilia felt an inordinate amount of pain as she walked down the dark streets of Midgar. A more elite citizen of the metal city might have noted she was going to commit an act of perfidy. All Lilia knew was that she was going to betray her lover.

Lilia loved Min passionately. Her thoughts were consumed of him. She belonged to him, completely and utterly, but when it came to the lives of all who resided around her; she couldn't sit back and invite destruction. To do so would be sheer folly, and Lilia was no fool.

She didn't know much about the ecological terrorist group…beyond what the Midgar propaganda had preached. Lilia discounted all that immediately, like any other sensible person.

So her plans were set. And no matter how much it tore her in two; it seemed that these strange and dangerous people might be the only ones willing to listen to her tale of madness.

--

_MIN_

_and his Platoon_

Costa Del Sol

As a whole, Min rarely felt airsick. His training had been so intensive, that his mind was compartmentalised to ignore extraneous sensations. Such as motion sickness. Or, for that matter, bullets.

Yet the turbulence was astonishing as the plane made its final descent towards the tropical paradise of Costa Del Sol. Min had noticed how much the wind had picked up, ever since they left the relative protection of Midgar airspace. Here in the open, that plane was open to the whims of the Planet…and yet it was almost as if it was something more.

Min chuckled inwardly at the ridiculous thought, and cleared his head as the aircraft landed with a bump. He grabbed his rifle, and looked at his platoon.

"Alright, men," he said, "move out."

--

Shinra's air force was the finest on the Planet, and the AVALANCHE cell never knew what hit them. The Platoon, standing out in their uniforms, rushed down main street, rifles pointed outwards. The tourists that were enjoying the warm (but blustery) weather, moved quickly aside, fearing for their own lives. No-one cried out in alarm, for they didn't want to draw any attention to themselves. Reaching the door, Min nodded to his explosives expert, who moved forward to the door, placing a small explosive charge on the lock. The team moved several steps back, until Min whispered:

"Fire in the hole."

The team shut their eyes while the explosives expert pressed a button on the detonator. The explosion was small, and sounded like a car backfiring, and as the door swung open, Min lurched forward, looking for his targets; his men behind him. He saw three sitting at a table, picked a victim, and opened fire. The rifle roared, as bullets flew towards the table. Half a moment later, his team followed suit, and the three men lay dead on the ground.

A gunshot went off near Min's head, and he flinched as two women burst into the room waving pistols, firing blindly in fury. The Platoon swivelled, and returned fire, killing the women instantly. From start to finish, the massacre had lasted a scant fifteen seconds.

Mission accomplished.

--

_AVALANCHE: TIFA LOCKHEART and BARRET WALLACE with LILIA_

Midgar

Lilia admitted to herself that while the dark alley was something of a wretched cliché, she was comforted by the anonymity of it all. It wasn't very long before she rewarded by the sight of a burly man, with a metallic arm; accompanied by a young girl with very long, black hair.

"Are you Lilia?"

Lilia nodded, and the girl smiled:

"I'm glad you came. Forgive me for not sharing my name, or that of my friend. We must be careful, you see. Now I believe you wanted to show us something."

Lilia handed over a copy of the incriminating file, and its accompanying documents, which Tifa gratefully took. Opening it, she squinted slightly, shifting the file around to best find the greasy light emanating from the street. Her eyes widened, and she passed it over to Barrett, nodding agreement.

"Thankyou for bringing this to our attention, Lilia. This will prove…useful."

"I'm glad," said Lilia, "now if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."

"Hold on a damn momen'" growled Barett, "you ain't goin' nowhere."

"Oh, I rather think I am," said Lilia, "I've taken enough risks here. I've betrayed a confidence, and I'm still not entirely sure of this documents veracity."

"Where did it come from?" asked Tifa.

"It was left for me. I don't know from whom. I can only guess it isn't a trap, from the length of time it's been in my possession."

"So you're unsure whether it's true or not?" said Tifa.

"Not entirely, but it's too bizarre to be made up. Plus with the odd things that have been going on. I think it's real, alright. Now I really must be going."

"Wait a moment," said Tifa, "you have to help us spread the word. Testify to the people of Midgar. We'll protect you with everything we have."

Lilia's face darkened. She had half-expected this, but still:

"No. I will never do that, young lady. Neither with you, nor without you. I have more to protect than my own life, and I have risked that to much already. Do with it what you will."

She walked away, without even saying goodbye.

--

Of course Lilia wasn't to know her precautions were for naught, and her secret was very close to some very dangerous people. The gentleman standing on the rooftop far above the group of three was not _the _Witness, rather, _a_ witness. As he watched the other two figures walk away in the other directions, he smiled.

--

_SOLDIER_

_Platoon 17 - First Class_

_Presidential Protection Detail_

The Shinra Building, 13th Floor

The Upper Plate, Midgar

As an organisation, the Shinra Electric Corporation has many enemies. It's President has even more.

One such enemy is the city-state of Wutai, and its leader, Lord Godo. Over a decade had passed since a long and devastating war began, leaving both sides with massive casualties. Ending less than five years earlier, with great bitterness and regret, Wutai succumbed to its ravages. Godo never forgot Shinra's cruelty, and vowed one day to seek revenge. It was only now, after his beloved daughter departed her homeland in search of riches, did he choose to exact it.

--

The team of assassins was very small, and their mission was devastatingly precise. They were all handpicked by Godo, after years of training for this very day. They were to climb to the top of Shinra Tower, and murder President Shinra, along with his son and heir; Vice-President Rufus Shinra. It was hoped that in the power vacuum that would inevitable follow, the senior partners/board members (Palmer, Scarlett, Heidegger, Hojo and Reeve) would destroy each other in the rush to seize the reins of command.

It was a good plan. An excellent plan, in fact. It had only one small hiccup…SOLDIER Platoon 17. Very well trained, their bodies and minds infused with Mako, giving them super-strength and heightened abilities, they were the epitome of Shinra's willingness to tamper with the natural order of things. The assassin's never knew what hit them.

One moment, they had been creeping silently along a dark and deserted corridor, trying to find a usable elevator. They had recently 'acquired' a key card, and were confident enough to speed up a little.

Of course, the motion sensors that lined random corridors flared up, and Platoon 17 were sent to investigate. They were a little surprised to find the assassins had progressed so far, and elected to make sure they went further.

The assassins never stood a chance.

--

_EDGE_

Edge was smiling, which in his book, was something of a good sign. The target he had been assigned to follow (for reasons unusually abstract and unclear), had departed, and the two people she had met with were just leaving. Edge, of course, didn't know anything about a dead preacher called Anthony, only to follow a young woman called Lilia, and find out if she had, or was going to meet with anyone else. Knowing his orders were clear, he began to carefully move along the rooftops, following the burly man with a gun for an arm, and an especially pretty girl, to wherever they would lead him.

He, in turn, would lead them all to the Turks.

--

22 days remaining until the destruction of Midgar

Three days later, a small theft boosting the amount of coins in his pocket, Edge reflected on his failure.

His pursuit of the two targets had fallen victim to a stupid, rookie mistake. Mistakes he was making far too often, these days. While on the rooftops, he had slipped on a loose roofing tile, sending it crashing to the ground. He had barely avoided falling himself, but the noise (and impromptu missile) had alerted the quarry's to his presence. Edge sighed. Perhaps it was time to retire. Before the Turks decided to retire _him_.

He had alerted them of course, been completely honest, and relaying all his relevant knowledge. Tseng had been very brief, and yet Edge had noticed the growing hostility. He had heard nothing since. Not a good sign.

Perhaps a holiday was in order. A change of scenery, something new. Now that a terrorist cell had been revealed and eliminated, perhaps Costa Del Sol might provide his needed respite. Good food, beautiful women. The sand beneath his feet, the ocean waves lapping gently. Yes. It was exactly what he needed.

Lost in his own thoughts, Edge ended up making yet another mistake. Turning a corner, he flinched in surprise as a nightstick came crashing down toward him. He turned quickly, taking the blow on his shoulder. Crying out in pain, he used the sideways momentum he'd built to crash into his attacker, knocking him to the floor.

"You'll pay for that," snarled Reno, his easygoing demeanour changing rapidly. Edge move swiftly backwards as the Turks started to move in.

--

_The Other Side of the Equation: LORD GODO_

Pagoda of the Five Gods

Wutai

Sitting cross-legged on the top floor of the majestic Pagoda, Godo waited patiently. In the years of the Midgar-Wutai war, he had successfully set up a vast network of spies, able to relay messages with great speed. The relatively recent invention of the PHS had since made elements of this network redundant, but Godo still relied on them, and paid well for their services. He knew that the assassins had passed the date of the attack three days ago, be he had hoped it was simply down to an unforeseen change in plans. He had hoped that they had been able to prevail.

When he saw the face of his advisor, he finally knew it was not so.

"Well?" Godo whispered.

"My Lord," replied the advisor, "I regret to inform you…our plan is an utter failure. The assassins failed."

"Leave me," replied Godo sharply. The advisor bowed and withdrew, sliding the door shut behind him. Lord Godo lowered his head in shame, and the demeanour of his body slumped. He whispered to nobody in particular:

"President Shinra will destroy me for this."

--

_FUREW_

Midgar

Furew was very tired. She had just come home from the abandoned church, and even though it was only late afternoon, she had found her mother slumped on the sofa; unconscious. An empty bottle of moonshine lay next to her outstretched hand.

Furew immediately went to check her mother was still alive. When satisfied that she was still with the living, and the worry faded from her young brow; she set about cleaning up. First was the bottle, which went straight in the bin. Next, Furew found a clean blanket, and threw it over her mother's comatose form.

Furew went into the kitchen, and quietly closed the door behind her, blocking out all sounds of her mother's breathing. Moving to the cupboard she searched for food, and washed a plate to put it on.

Sitting at the table, she tried to put the food in her mouth, but found it suddenly dry, and she couldn't bring herself to start.

She soon realised where the moisture had gone to - her eyes.

Furew cried for a long time, well into the night; alone, except for a plate of cold food.

--

_THE DURZI_

The sign outside of Lennox's shop said 'Durzi', but he was nothing but a simple tailor at heart. It was an exotic name for a less-than exotic part of town (unless you were to visit a certain Inn within the immediate area). Sector Six was looking more dilapidated than usual; the Festival of Cherry Blossoms was long since gone. The only thing that shone bright was the sign, the one that read 'Durzi'. A long forgotten language that Lennox used to distinguish himself amongst his competition across the way. The other tailor…whose name Lennox hated to even contemplate…was infinitely more famous, but Lennox kept his resentment deep underneath a bitter professionalism. He loved cloth, and he made a steady trade. He realised after many years he would have to make do with that.

Today's trade was a little on the slow side, so while the people bustled around outside, he looked to the scrap of paper; on which an elegant hand had ordered something…well, bizarre. The durzi had never seen such an order in his life, indeed it had been something of a legend in tailor circles. Something impossibly expensive, something none of the lower inhabitants could ever afford in their lifetimes; and something only a fraction of the elite could dream of: Spinner. An occult cloth, woven with strands of pure Platinum, and hammered Materia - strands as thin as a single human hair - into a beautiful whole, believed to be utterly invulnerable. A buyer would have to pay twice - once for the materials, and again for the finished product. Lennox would have enough to retire, enough to live the rest of his life in a quiet section of the world, away from all the horrors of Midgar. And it was _he_ who had been chosen; not his competitor. Lennox would soon be gone from here.

He would soon be free.

--

_SHINRA ADMINISTRATIVE DEPARTMENT IN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT (THE TURKS)_  
_Tseng, Vincent, Reno and Rude_

Edge's pistol was lying on the ground, Edge unable to reach it. It had been knocked away from him by Reno's nightstick, and now, all Edge was left to defend himself with was his short sword. It clashed against the nightstick, emitting showers of sparks, as the combatants both thrust and parried. Making both Reno's and Edge's lives more difficult was Rude, who silently kept moving forward, trying to jab and wallop Edge with his fists. More often than not, however, he got in the way of Reno, which was probably the reason Edge was still standing. While fending off his two attackers, Edge also kept half an eye on Tseng and Vincent, who were both circling warily. Tseng appeared unarmed at the moment, and Vincent was trying to aim his pistol at Edge's head. Again, both Reno and Rude were getting in the way - another reason Edge was still standing.

Rude came in for another pass, and Edge swivelled while holding his sword high, which resulted in the flat side colliding with Rude's bald head. With a gasp, he sank to the floor, still conscious, but disorientated, and with a feeling he was going to be violently sick. When Reno diverted his attention for a moment, Edge shifted so Reno was between him and Vincent's gun, then swivelled his sword in a circular motion around Reno's nightstick, causing him to drop it to the ground. Reno looked up in surprise, and Edge used the opportunity to plant a devastating blow, straight on his nose. Reno fell backwards, clutching his face.

Edge now had to make one of two choices. Tseng, or Vincent?

He chose Tseng. Running towards the leader of the Turks, he used his shoulder to tackle him to the ground. It was the wrong choice, and when Edge slammed into Tseng, knocking him over, he simultaneously felt the tremendous pain of his forgotten shoulder injury, and the cold, hard metal of Vincent's gun; now pressed against his temple.

"Freeze," said Vincent softly, "and drop it."

The sword fell to the ground with a clatter.

Both Tseng and Reno stood up, (Rude was still too disoriented). Blood was pouring from Reno's nose, and Tseng handed him a piece of cloth to try and stem it.

"Oh, man," said Reno, "I think you broke it. Why'd you go and do that?"

"You attacked me!" said Edge, to which Reno nodded his assent.

"True, true. But my _nose?_ Where'd you get off doing something like that?"

"Tseng?" asked Vincent, "Want me to shoot him?"

"Hold on a moment," said Edge, "I'm meant to be working for you. I'm useful, and I more than earn my keep. You don't need to kill me!"

"You failed," said Tseng simply, "and this is something of a high profile job for us."

"Oh, you morons," replied Edge, "that was just one attempt. I was honest about it. I have more work planned. Now come on…please. Let me finish the job I started."

Vincent looked at Tseng, and Tseng nodded slightly. Vincent lowered the gun.

"Thankyou," said Edge, "thankyou. Now how about we go and get a drink? We can see where we go from here, and get some ice for Rude's head."

".……………" said Rude.

--

_ERICA_

The Train Station

A small suitcase was placed delicately at Erica's side, as she waited patiently for the train to come in. It was starting to get late, and Erica noticed the light beginning to go a little dimmer than usual. Not much natural light reached the slums from the Upper Plate, but enough did that a resident could tell whether it was day or night. Erica knew twilight was coming, as did the handful of people around her, all waiting for the same train.

Erica looked up, at the huge towers of metal, all holding up the monstrous ceiling, upon which the rich resided. Their pollution in turn falling back down into the slums below. It was an efficient system, but one that was hardly fair.

Erica was excited, one of the rare times in her life she allowed herself to feel as such. She had never left Midgar before, and had used up most of her savings to buy the train tickets. She was planning to visit the small town of Kalm, somewhat nearby, but far enough away that she could breathe clean air for the first time in her life. Her friend, Aeris, had been glad for her, and was happy to take full responsibility for the flower-strewn-church for the few days she would be absent.

The only thing Erica was worried about was Furew. The little girl had been withdrawn of late, and Erica decided that when she returned, she would have words with Furew's mother. This was no way for a little girl to live. It was no life at all.

Erica snapped out of her thoughts, when she heard the arrival of the train, and the accompanying blast of steam, issuing onto the platform. The steam even disguised the grimy nature of her surroundings, and unusually for her, Erica felt a glimmer of hope.

As she moved forward with her fellow passengers, Erica knew that perhaps, somewhere in the future, there was a life she could make for herself away from here.

And that this was the first step of many yet to come.

--

_SAKURA_

The bar in Sector Six was dark and noisy. Sakura detested being there, but found it an easy place to be able to hide in plain sight. Sometimes sacrifices would be required, and today, it was her personal comfort.

Sipping on an alcoholic liquid of unknown colour and origin, Sakura quietly observed the bar from her corner. She had an interesting ability (one of many) that while people were vaguely aware of her presence, she knew none of them would remember her face, and none would certainly approach her. It was useful, in that she didn't even have to fend off unwanted advances from the more 'romantic' element of the bar. That may have well ended in massive bloodshed.

Sakura was impatient. She knew the Rites she was preparing to perform required a significant amount of time, but she wished that wretched tailor would hurry up and finish her Spinner cloth. She needed it very soon, and for the amount it had cost her, she expected something of a better service. Yet the tailor's fate was sealed. He would _not_ die. How would it look if a second shopkeeper were to mysteriously perish? Why, the authorities might think there was a serial-killer amongst their midst.

Of course the killings would escalate shortly. It was simply necessary. And those that were to die in the next twenty-two days would simply be saved from the horrors that were to come. Sakura genuinely thought of it as an act of mercy. As well as being tremendous fun.

--

After another hour had passed, the reason for her being in this filthy place became apparent. In walked five men; four dressed in the uniform of the Turks.

They all sat at a table in the other corner, and while Tseng went to fetch drinks, the other's positioned themselves, Edge especially - making sure he was closest to the door.

It took Tseng a few trips, but soon enough, everyone had a beverage, and Rude had a pack of ice held against his head. Reno's nose had since stopped bleeding, and Vincent insisted it wasn't broken; just bruised. Reno seemed to accept that.

Edge told the Turks everything he knew, and in turn, they told him that the woman Lilia was under surveillance for some unknown reason. They also told Edge that they wanted more information before they went before their superiors, and for now, she would be safe. Keep a close eye on her, and try to find out if she meets with anyone else. The dead preacher, Anthony, was not mentioned.

Edge was also told he was now on a time limit and to report in every day. That was most important at all. If they thought he was up to no good, they would go after him again. And this time, he would be very much dead.

That part was strongly emphasised.

--

When they had all finished speaking, Sakura smiled. It seemed that they were doing much of her job for her. She would keep her eyes on these various men, mercenary and Shinra alike. Why, it was always useful to have some human sacrifices ready and waiting. They would certainly prove their worth in the days to come.

And she must simply find time for this woman they were talking about. Sakura thought that a conversation with the woman called Lilia, would be simply fascinating.

--

_THE WITNESS_

It's so difficult to take a stand. I know so much, and yet so little. I dither, and I flounder.

Short of bellowing from the rooftops, I have no way of forcing the Exodus. And if I were to try, and I know I will be derided a lunatic; and worse, Sakura will become aware of my feeble efforts.

The wind continues to pick up, and I find it bracing. Yet I know what it means. I know part of her plan now. My research had proved deeply fruitful. She is to perform the Rites. An ancient ceremony, which began with the death of her unholy lover. The only thing I don't know is why.

There are two parts to the Rites of ancient magic. She requires several sources of great power, with which she can summon a storm of apocalyptic proportions. Some sort of Hurricane or Typhoon. This will escalate the already critical Mako unto bursting point.

Yet there is still a second stage of Rites to come, even after that. Will Midgar still be standing? Or even be able to face what she will unleash after that?

There are several chain reactions still to come. But what good is all this power for? For what purpose is she to use it? It is too much for a simple summon. Does she crave the destruction of Midgar? The city that claimed her lover? Is simple anarchy enough of a reason for genocide?

Wait a moment…

Her lover. Her now _dead_ lover…summon. Summon, summon…summon?

_No. Surely not. Surely it is impossible…_

She means to bring him back. Perhaps to also resurrect an army of the dead. And in order for that, she will kill millions. That may even help her goal.

Yet, with the worlds only superpower obliterated, and an invincible army at her disposal.

_She is going to resurrect her dead love, and try to take over the __damn__ Planet._

It's the only explanation possible. The only reason she would be doing all this. Yet, I must be sure. I must bury myself in more research, and see how she can be stopped.

She is too powerful now. I don't stand a chance. She is a force majeure, so I in turn, must endeavour to match her.

And then I will slaughter her.

**Disclaimer: **All the characters from Final Fantasy VII are copyright to Square Enix; and the story, plus original characters to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page (this includes links) without my express written permission. Thankyou!

**JetNoir**


End file.
